


Worship

by Fire_Bear



Series: PrUK Week 2018 [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (it's a fake religion, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Priests, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Day 5, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Foreshadowing, Gods, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mutual Pining, PrUK Week 2018, Priests, Religion, Self-Lubrication, mentions of child abuse, mild manipulation, more or less)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: Father Gilbert is a dedicated priest to the god of Spring - who has turned up at his house and demanded to be worshipped properly. But Arthur's version of worship is vastly different from Gilbert's and the priest is determined to resist his demands.How long will he be able to do so before he does as his beloved god says?





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> The FrUK is very brief and probably not worth mentioning because of reasons that may be apparent but will also be discussed in the end notes.

Once the service was over, Father Gilbert bid his farewells. At least, he tried to but his congregation were impressed with his sermon and every single one of them wanted to express their congratulations or gratitude. Normally, Gilbert would be happy that his sermon had touched so many souls. But, at the moment, he had a problem in the little house he lived in, separate from the church, that he wanted to try to address once again. Unfortunately,  no excuse would dissuade them to leave well enough alone. So he forced himself to endure it and, when the sun was on its path downwards, Gilbert was finally able to return home.

There, he unlocked the door and made his way to his modest library. Gilbert paused in the narrow hallway before taking a deep breath, standing straighter and opening the door. Nothing happened so he took several tentative steps inside, tugging at his dog’s collar. For a moment, he thought he was alone. Then he spotted him curled up on Gilbert’s favourite chair.

What appeared to be a man sat there with a book on his lap. He had messy, straw blond hair which brushed his ears and made Gilbert want to tuck the strands behind them. His eyes were green - and that was the only way to describe them, as Gilbert had looked into them on several occasions and they were a different shade each time. A crown adorned his head, made from the young leaves of an oak tree and threaded with multiple coloured crocuses. He wore only a chiton which was white but, when Gilbert turned his head, it was a pale green.

As the ‘man’ turned his head to look at him, Gilbert dropped to his knees on the floor and prostrated himself. “My Lord,” he said to his god, the god of Spring.

“Arthur,” said the god, and Gilbert could hear the way he rolled his eyes. “Use my name.” There was the sound of a page turning.

Shaking his head at the floor, Gilbert pushed himself back up into a kneeling position. “Did you hear my sermon?” he asked.

“Of course I did,” said Arthur, toying with the corner of the book he held. “And it was wrong, as usual.”

Gilbert sighed, dropping the pretenses. “I’m not going to preach what you're asking me to.”

“And why not?” Arthur demanded. “Your flock would _love_ to have their ‘impure’ lives validated. None of them have the pure thoughts you and that rotten church system tell them they should have. They’re wrong. _You're_ wrong. And I am your god. So why do you resist this so much?”

Turning his head away, Gilbert hoped Arthur wouldn’t see his red cheeks. “It has been a week,” he said, in lieu of an answer. “Why do you not ask another to do what you want?”

“Are you questioning me?” Arthur’s tone was sharp.

Whipping his head around, Gilbert stared at Arthur, eyes wide. He was only slightly relieved that Arthur did not look angry; he was waiting for an answer with an eyebrow raised. “No, I’m-”

Suddenly, Gilbert felt himself pulled forward by some sort of force. He couldn’t resist it as he was brought within Arthur’s reach. The gods hand cupped Gilbert’s face, drawing him closer until he was kneeling in front of the chair, close enough to see the folds in his chiton. “I am your god,” said Arthur as Gilbert struggled not to stare at the bottom of Arthur’s clothing. Or at his face. Or any other part of him, in fact, his eyes darting around to avoid focussing on anyone thing. “You _do_ consider me your god, do you not?”

“Yes,” Gilbert murmured. After a moment’s quiet, he glanced up at Arthur to see him tilt his head forward, a gesture to continue. “You are my god. I will worship you.”

“Then do it right,” said Arthur and his hand slipped around the back of Gilbert’s head. Gently, he began to push Gilbert further towards him, his head between Arthur’s legs. “Go ahead. Get some practice in.”

Quickly, Gilbert pulled away, scrambling to his feet as he backed off. “No,” he said, bracing himself for Arthur’s ire. “I won't sully myself.”

“Not even for me?” Arthur asked, innocently.

Biting his lip, Gilbert shook his head. His body twitched as he realised that it was reacting again. He shuddered and closed his eyes. “Not… Not even for you,” he said, firmly.

“Fine,” said Arthur, not bothering to get angry. It always disconcerted Gilbert when he disobeyed his god and he didn't show his wrath. Had he truly let it go or was he plotting something? After all, it was said that any rain showers or unsettled weather was the god of Spring being angry. But, when Gilbert opened his eyes, he saw that Arthur had returned to his book.

“I- Really?” said Gilbert, hopefully.

Arthur glanced up at him and seemed to notice the relief pouring from him. “Oh, my darling priest, no,” he said, smirking at him. “I’m not leaving here until you worship me the way I told you. But I’ll leave you alone for now. I found this amusing book about the god of Love. Francis will enjoy hearing about this.”

“You can’t stay here forever!” Gilbert protested, trying to hint at his utter refusal.

“You seem to forget that I am an immortal being,” Arthur retorted, his eyes narrow.

Blanching, Gilbert took a step back. “I… I will leave you to it.” And he hurried from the room, trying to ignore the fond chuckling from behind him.

* * *

Gilbert retreated to his study to consult his books. He had been doing that a lot lately, as this problem was not something he could write to his pope about and he hoped there would be some advice. However, he quickly realised that he was reading the same sentence over and over again. Sighing, he leaned his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together, staring at the door. Not too far away, a god was seated, waiting for Gilbert to come to him and give him proper worship. His head drooped forward as he wondered what he had possibly done to deserve the situation he now found himself in.

A month ago, Gilbert had come across the god of Spring. The brisk winter chill was still in the air when he had been returning from his time in the Spring Brotherhood’s Cathedral. Along the road, he had found the god beginning his work to bring Spring into the world. Gilbert had been unable to move when he saw him, struck dumb by his grace and beauty. When Arthur turned and _looked_ at him, Gilbert’s heart had stuttered. He couldn’t stop his obvious blush, his pale skin making it all the more obvious.

Probably bored, Arthur had approached Gilbert and introduced himself. Gilbert had almost hurt himself as he fell to his knees before his favoured god. That had amused Arthur somewhat and he had asked what else Gilbert would do from his position. But Gilbert had been confused, wondering what Arthur had meant.

Perhaps sensing that Gilbert was much more innocent than Arthur was expecting, the god convinced Gilbert to take him to his house. Gilbert had been overjoyed, excited to provide for his god in any way he could. His excitement had turned to confusion when Arthur had asked him what he was preaching. So Gilbert had willingly and eagerly explained, sure he would be facing approval and a blessing.

“The Spring section of the Seasons Church promotes the most important features of Spring,” Gilbert had said, gesturing outside. “Peace. Newborns. Growth. Getting rid of the impurities of the past year and making ourselves pure.”

“And what has that to do with Spring?” Arthur had asked, folding his arms and, thankfully, covering the one nipple which kept drawing Gilbert’s attention.

Confused, Gilbert had shook his head. “I don’t-”

“Spring is not about purity. The plants and flowers thrive on the detritus from winter. Babies may be born, yes, but it is not some spiritual process. And the animals have sex - which your church seems eager to suppress. It is unnatural and I am unimpressed.”

That had sent chills down Gilbert’s spine. If the god was displeased with a large section of the Church, what would that mean for them? Would he seek retribution? Worried, Gilbert had prostrated himself at his feet. “Please,” he had said. “What can I do to fix this?”

“You will worship me properly.”

“I will fix my sermons as you deman-” Gilbert had begun but he was interrupted by Arthur.

“No, you misunderstand,” Arthur had said, drawing Gilbert up until his face was level with the god’s crotch. “I want you to worship me the way I should be worshipped. And then you can spread it to the rest of your followers.”

“What-What do you mean?”

And Arthur had explained how he wanted Gilbert to touch him, to enjoy his time with the god, to come to new heights with him. Gilbert had listened attentively at first, but he had soon wished he hadn’t as Arthur had detailed some of the things he wanted Gilbert to do. His face had burned from embarrassment and… something else. Of course, he had pulled away from him as quickly as he could, refusing to succumb to temptation. To Gilbert, it had been a test, one he had passed when he refused. But Arthur had refused to applaud him and had told him that he wouldn’t leave until Gilbert had accepted that sex was part of Spring.

At first, Gilbert had easily resisted. However, Arthur would pop up at inconvenient moments or would move in enticing ways, catching Gilbert’s attention. It took him longer and longer to react, to pull away and turn his head. Now, Gilbert felt as if it was wearing him down. How much longer could he resist the god? And should he being resisting his advances? Arthur should surely know what he wanted when people worshipped him.

Gilbert pressed his forehead to his hands and wished he could pray.

* * *

Two days later, Gilbert was tending to his garden when Arthur came out from his house. The priest watched him from the corner of his eye as the god wandered through it. Arthur cast his eyes over the flowers that were grown and the bare soil where Gilbert had planted vegetables. Then, without comment, he bent over, arse in the air as he brushed his fingers over the leaves and dirt. Nothing visibly happened but Gilbert could feel a thrill run through him and he knew that Arthur had blessed his meagre crops.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Arthur as he moved in the sunlight. A golden glow seemed to surround him as he bathed in the Spring air. Several animals that usually skittered away as the priest worked actually came into the garden and darted around the god’s feet. Gilbert was sure he would shoo them away and bat away the birds that had swooped down, calling out to him.

Instead, the god smiled. It wasn’t a smirk or something smug and all-knowing. Arthur looked genuinely happy to see them and lifted a finger. A tit landed on it and sang to him. Laughing, Arthur crouched down, keeping his hand steady. The bird ruffled its feathers but stayed perched where it had landed. With his free hand, Arthur pet the squirrels and bunnies. Gilbert could only watched, shocked by the intense yearning that was building up within him.

Eventually, Arthur looked up and stared at Gilbert. Unable to look away, Gilbert pursed his lips to keep from saying something stupid. That only made Arthur grin; Gilbert had to turn away, the sight blinding.

When he turned back, Arthur had gone, the animals scurrying away.

* * *

Later that night, Gilbert was in his room, slowly getting ready for bed. He’d been unable to erase the image from earlier in the day and it was compounded with other little quirks that he had noticed about Arthur. Things like the way he scrunched up his nose at some of the (unfortunately) greasy food that Gilbert provided for him or the times Gilbert caught him outside, singing to the world. Every little thing that Gilbert noticed made him blush, his heart doing strange things in his chest. But what didn’t help were the daily orders to worship Arthur.

At this point, Gilbert was beginning to consider it.

After all, who would know? The house was behind the church, tucked out of the way so that none of the parishioners could see it and to give the priests privacy. And, if he did it now, the Summer priest would not arrive and witness him. Besides… Arthur was his god and he _wanted_ to worship him correctly. If he was shown everything Arthur had been saying, maybe he could actually take the new information to the Spring Pope. Perhaps they could change their ways, stop condemning those people who had sex outwith marriage.

Yet… what would happen if he gave in? How would the world change when they discovered the truth? Would the popes of the world agree with it or would they reject it? They had rejected several of the other gods and religions already. Could Gilbert convince them to open their minds to the possibility of this new way of worship?

As he thought, he pulled off his cassock, hanging it up on the hanger specifically used for it. His undergarments went in the laundry and he had just thrown them into the basket and reached for his nightshirt when the door opened. Gilbert froze, eyes wide. Was Arthur really going to ask him to worship him again, _now_? He turned, staring at the god as Arthur entered, glancing around the bedroom as if he’d never seen it before.

“What is it?” Gilbert demanded, snatching up his nightshirt to hold it in front of him.

“I came to talk to you,” said Arthur, not reacting to Gilbert’s situation at all.

“About the worshipping again? You know my answer to that.”

Arthur finally looked him in the eye and Gilbert wondered if it had been a mistake to gain his attention. The god’s eyes were so beautiful… “I also know,” Arthur said, jolting Gilbert from his thoughts, “that you have been feeling conflicted lately. You do no-one any good in that state. We are halfway through Spring already and, if you cannot attract followers for me, then you are useless.”

Gasping, Gilbert stepped forward, reaching out to Arthur with one hand. “No… I-I have plenty of-”

“And no new ones,” Arthur pointed out. “You have not been doing your usual exceptional job and the fault lies with my presence. So I have decided to leave you. If you can gain new followers for me in the time remaining, I will return next Spring.”

“What?!” Gilbert exclaimed, alarmed. He may not know what he wanted to do about Arthur’s request but he knew he didn’t want to lose him. Gilbert wanted him to stay, wanted to know more about him, even if he had refused to acknowledge him when he constantly asked for proper worship.

“You heard me,” Arthur said, sounding almost sad. The god turned to leave and Gilbert knew that, if Arthur got through the door of his bedroom, he would be gone. Would he ever come back? Gilbert wasn’t confident that he’d manage to gain new followers in the remaining time of Spring - he couldn’t risk it.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Gilbert cried, taking another couple of steps forward, his hand dropping so that his nightshirt only covered his lower body. “I… I want to…”

Only a few feet from the door, Arthur turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at Gilbert. “What is it you want?”

Opening his mouth to reply, Gilbert paused. What did he want? For one, he wanted Arthur to stay: it got lonely being the only priest out here during Spring and he was glad for the company. He wanted to spread the love he had for his god and his fellow parishioners throughout the world, to encourage people to worship Spring more than the other seasons. It was the most important season, in his opinion - though he may have been a bit biased since he had been brought up by the Spring section of the church when he had been abandoned there as a baby. Most of all, though, he wanted his god’s approval. He had failed in that already but there was one way to make up for that…

“I want to worship you,” Gilbert said, ducking his head as he felt his face heat up. “Properly.”

“Do you?” said Arthur, not moving from his spot.

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert nodded and, after a moment’s hesitation, let his nightshirt fall. He stood, fully naked, before his god, and waited for the verdict. Arthur, however, didn’t speak. The god turned and made his way towards him, his eyes fixed on Gilbert’s face. Gilbert tried to stop himself from trembling; a mix of excitement and nerves.

When Arthur reached him, he placed a gentle hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. All at once, Gilbert felt calmed, able to breathe normally. He gazed at Arthur, wondering what would happen now. Which way would Arthur have him worship him? As he stared, Arthur’s body suddenly glowed with a gentle light. It pulsed once before receding, leaving the god entirely naked: even the crown was gone. Gilbert’s gaze was drawn to Arthur’s chest, taking in the pink nipples against his light skin. Arthur’s hand moved, trailing across Gilbert’s shoulder and up his neck, making him shudder in anticipation, his heart beating wildly. The god’s fingers brushed against his ear as he reached up to place his hand on his head.

Slowly, Arthur put pressure on him, increasing it as he pushed Gilbert down. He went willingly, savouring the sensation of giving himself to his god. Eventually, he was on his knees before him, the stone floor an uncomfortable feeling that he expertly ignored. Directly in front of Gilbert’s face was Arthur’s cock, well-proportioned, hefty and hard, his balls hanging below them. Gilbert swallowed, only able to stare at it in awe. Without a word, Arthur ran his hand down the back of Gilbert’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair. Then he pulled Gilbert forward so that his mouth was a scant finger’s breadth from the tip.

Hesitant, Gilbert let his tongue slip out, darting across the tip of Arthur’s dick. He paused then, unsure if what he had done was correct. Looking up, he found Arthur watching him, a fond smile on his lips. It grew when Gilbert felt himself blush, wanting to look away but unable to. “Go ahead,” Arthur said, his words sending relief crashing through Gilbert. “You may do as you wish, as long as I come.”

“I… Really?” murmured Gilbert, incapable of raising his voice higher. “I have- I have never done this before.”

“As long as you worship me, it will be good,” Arthur insisted.

Gilbert nodded, his nose brushing against Arthur’s cock. He could smell a musky sort of smell, though it was dull compared to the sweet smells he always associated with Spring: the scent of the blossoms in the trees; the crispness after a rainshower; the many smells from the market, different now as people emerged from the warmth of their houses. Inhaling deeply, he couldn’t help but smile, savouring it.

Then, confidence boosted, Gilbert pressed forward, pushing his lips against the tip. He parted them and slid his mouth over the end of Arthur’s cock. Above him the god sighed, seemingly enjoying the feeling of Gilbert’s mouth slowly encasing him. Moving his head forward, Gilbert went as far as he could go before he felt like gagging. Then he moved back off, dragging his lips along. He did that a few more times before the yearning to _taste_ his god grew to be too much.

So, without thinking much further than that, Gilbert pressed his tongue against Arthur’s cock, revelling in the sweet taste. Surprised, Gilbert made a muffled sound and moved his head forward, letting his tongue run along the length of him. Curling his tongue, Gilbert wrapped it around Arthur’s cock, sweeping it around as he bobbed his head.

It was almost meditative, Gilbert realised, as he worked on Arthur. The repetitive movements, the feeling of bliss, the way his mind seemed free of all other thoughts. Was this what it would be like once he’d spread this method of worship? Would he be able to hear Arthur’s commands even when he was spreading Spring throughout the world? He hoped it was; he could find peace in doing this.

Feeling his own saliva dripping down his chin, Gilbert instinctively sucked in, trying not to let it drip further. A moan from above him had Gilbert’s eyes fluttering open, unaware he had closed them. Had that been because he had sucked or had his tongue moved in a certain way? Sucking again as he pulled off Arthur elicited the same noise and Gilbert smiled, happy that Arthur was appreciating his ministrations. Eagerly, he sped up, bobbing up and down, curling his tongue, sucking on Arthur. He became so enraptured with his worshipping that he found himself trying to push himself down further. In order to do so, he cautiously placed his hands on Arthur’s hips to keep him still: Arthur’s free hand curled around one of Gilbert’s and he knew that he was allowed to do as he pleased.

And so Gilbert continued, working Arthur ever closer, if the little twitches of his hips under Gilbert’s hand was any way to judge. Going even faster, Gilbert reached down with one of his hands to grip at Arthur’s base, a gasping noise coming from above him. Pleased, Gilbert began to use his hand on the length of Arthur that his mouth couldn’t comfortably reach. He wished that he didn’t have a gag reflex, that he could swallow Arthur further down, take him deeper. Alas, he had to make do, though, with the way Arthur groaned and shifted, it seemed to please Arthur, too.

Without warning, Arthur’s grip in Gilbert’s hair tightened. Gilbert made a muffled noise of surprise but there was little he could do as the god started thrusting into him. It forced his cock further down Gilbert’s throat and Gilbert gagged, feeling bile rise as he tried to eject Arthur from him. But he wanted Arthur inside him and he fought it, his eyes watering as he held on, trying not to panic at the lack of air. Thankfully, Arthur only thrust for half a dozen times before he mostly pulled out and spilled onto Gilbert’s tongue. Gilbert had barely gasped for breath before he was desperately swallowing the cum: it tasted like honey and Gilbert wanted more as he suckled at Arthur’s dick.

Eventually, Arthur stopped spurting and he softened in Gilbert’s mouth. Gilbert made a noise of protest before opening his mouth to allow Arthur to pull away, gasping for breath. He looked up at Arthur, blinking, wondering if that was it or if he wanted to do some of the other stuff Arthur had been talking about. The god looked down at him, his gaze a considering one as he looked Gilbert up and down.

“Well,” Arthur said, sounding a little breathless. “That’s a start. Worship me more.”

“Of course,” Gilbert replied, bowing his head slightly. Eagerly, he reached up to take Arthur in hand, stroking him. Arthur’s cock was just beginning to stir when he felt Arthur’s hand in his hair again.

“No,” said Arthur when Gilbert looked up. “Use that.” And, with his foot, Arthur nudged at Gilbert’s hard length.

Gilbert froze, eyes widening in panic. When he had lived at the Spring orphanage, he had hit puberty and gotten hard for the first time. Since no-one ever talked about sex to the children, Gilbert had had no idea what was going on and shown the matron, asking for help. She had lectured him for his sins, beat him and thrown him into cold water, dunking him over and over till he had softened. From then on, he had made sure to have cold showers or baths whenever he became aroused. Now that someone had noticed his hard cock, Gilbert had to fight the impulse to rush to the bathroom.

As Arthur reached down to help him up, however, there was no disgust in his eyes. Rather, Arthur’s eyes shone with a joy Gilbert had never seen before. His lips were quirked up in a smirk, watching Gilbert relax as he staggered to his feet, wincing at the pain in his knees. Once he was upright, Arthur raised his free hand and cupped Gilbert’s cheek. Eyes fluttering closed, Gilbert hoped that he was about to get his first kiss. Instead, Arthur’s mouth brushed at Gilbert’s ear when he leaned in.

“Worship me,” he said. “Do not be afraid to use your body in this. Do what you want.”

Opening his eyes, Gilbert watched Arthur straighten. The god raised an eyebrow, waiting. Tentatively, waiting to be told no, Gilbert reached up with one hand to cup Arthur’s face. Amazingly, Arthur let his eyes closed as he leaned into it, his smirk becoming a relaxed smile. Gilbert’s heart danced in his chest as he saw that and he knew then that there was no longer anything he wouldn’t do for his god. So, following his instructions, Gilbert leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, slowly, inexpertly kissing him.

Arthur made a startled noise at his actions. Somehow, the god hadn’t been expecting that. Gilbert couldn’t help but smile as they kissed. It was something soft and gentle; Gilbert thought it meant something. But Arthur was quick to tilt his head and deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing into Gilbert’s mouth. He let the god do as he wished, moaning deep in his throat. Before he could truly enjoy it, though, Arthur used his tongue to coax Gilbert’s out till they were kissing sloppily. Then Arthur’s tongue retreated and Gilbert followed: it took him a moment to realise that Arthur had just given Gilbert control of the kiss, just as the god wanted.

As they shifted closer together, Gilbert’s cock rubbed against Arthur’s. The god’s was still only half-hard but the slight touch had Gilbert yearning for more. He desperately wanted to rub himself against Arthur and, knowing that doing that while standing up would be too much for him, Gilbert turned Arthur around and began to push him backwards, not taking his lips from the god’s. A few steps was all it took for Gilbert to shove his god onto his bed, the lean body sprawled across the blankets. Arthur lay there, gazing up at Gilbert from under his eyelashes, a satisfied smile on his face. Gilbert shuddered and wanted to pounce on him and start… Well, he wasn’t sure what he could do immediately but he hoped they could get to do the ‘fucking’ he had heard so much about from snatches of conversation in this countryside parish.

Before he did any of that, however, Gilbert took in Arthur’s smooth skin, drinking in the sight. He wanted to do so much but he didn’t know where to start or what would be allowed. _Do what you want_ , Arthur had said. Would he really allow that, even if it was something he didn’t like? Or something he deemed beneath him?

Swallowing his doubts, Gilbert leaned down, carefully cupping Arthur’s face with both of his hands. He watched Arthur’s eyes widen in surprise just before he closed his own for a gentle kiss. Hopefully, he would be able to convey his love for Arthur in that one action. Perhaps he managed it, for Arthur made a strange noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and kissed back, just as tenderly. Pleased, Gilbert pulled away, pressed one more quick, chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips, and began to kiss his way down Arthur’s face.

Down to his chin, along his jaw and back again, further down to his throat. Gilbert pressed a kiss to Arthur’s Adam’s apple and paused to suck at it a little. He felt the moan vibrating under his lips when he did, delighted to hear it above him. Shifting back, Gilbert moved ever lower, his lips pressing soft kisses to every inch as he went. When he reached Arthur’s nipples, he sucked at them, careful with his teeth. Arthur gasped and arched into it, clutching at the sheets. Pulling away, Gilbert chanced a look up and was surprised to see that Arthur’s face was flushed. In fact, he looked a little dazed: Gilbert wondered if his worshipping, the _proper_ worship, was overwhelming the god.

Hoping to help him, Gilbert slid up Arthur’s body to kiss him again, this one a little more passionate than before, all tongues and teeth. They shifted against each other, their cocks rubbing together. Gilbert gasped against Arthur’s mouth and their movements increased, speeding up, increasing the pressure. Beneath him, Arthur’s hips were lifting from the bed, the only thing anchoring him the fists in Gilbert’s covers. A moan, echoed by Arthur, escaped Gilbert and they both stopped the kiss, panting into each other’s mouths. Arthur’s eyes remained closed, an expression of bliss on his face.

“Do you…?” Gilbert murmured, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the room. “What do you want me to do?”

Arthur sighed, though it didn’t sound like a happy one, and opened his eyes to stare flatly at Gilbert. “I told you to do as you wished.”

“But I…” Gilbert trailed off, his face on fire. How was he supposed to express that he was willing to give up everything he was to his god? Or that he also wanted to take whatever Arthur was able to give him? He placed his hand on Arthur’s chest, right over where his heart would be if he was human. Did gods have hearts? Gilbert found himself hoping that Arthur did and that Gilbert could have it, could steal it for himself.

“I know what you want,” said Arthur and Gilbert looked away in embarrassment. The god chuckled and moved below him; when Gilbert looked down, he saw that Arthur had spread his legs. “Move,” Arthur urged and Gilbert obediently did so until he was between Arthur’s legs. Arthur spread his legs wider and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Gilbert’s eyes flickered over Arthur’s body, nervous. “How… I don’t…”

“Ah,” said Arthur, softly. “Have a feel.”

“What?”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur grabbed Gilbert’s wrist and tugged it down his body. The abruptness of it almost made Gilbert topple forward; he only just shifted his weight on his knees to keep himself from doing so. Arthur moved his hand until it was between them and then shoved it downwards, letting go. Bewildered, his body moving of its own accord, Gilbert reached back and let his fingers brush against the skin just behind Arthur’s balls. Soon, they came across the edge of a puckered hole, something slick sticking to his fingers. Eyes widening, Gilbert pressed two fingers into the hole and found that they slid in easily. Arthur took a deep breath as they entered him and Gilbert jerked his hand back in surprise.

Smirking, Arthur watched him. “I’m ready for you. Get on with it.”

“Wha-? _How_?!” Gilbert exclaimed.

“I’m a god,” said Arthur with a disappointed sigh. “I can do all sorts of things.”

Mouth agape, Gilbert stared at him. He had never heard of this phenomenon before. Were all gods like this? Or was it just Arthur? Had he worked this out because he wanted to be worshipped like this? As he pondered on that, another part of his mind slowly realised something else. Arthur was prepared for him. Arthur wanted Gilbert to… His cock twitched, thick and hard and wanting. He took in a deep breath and glanced downwards.

“Can…?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, sounding a little breathless.

Smiling, Gilbert carefully took hold of Arthur’s thighs and pulled his hips up a little. When he thought they were level, he tried to insert himself into Arthur’s hole. It took a couple of goes but, thankfully, Arthur was patient, otherwise Gilbert may have lost his nerve. Finally, he got himself properly situated and started to push in.

It was almost too much for him. The tight squeezing around the tip of his cock, the heat, the friction as he pushed forward for more. All of it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His heart was pounding wildly, heat spread through him, pressure built behind his cock… Obviously, he would not last long and he only hoped that Arthur would accept that as his joy and reverence of being like this with his god.

Arthur’s legs came up around him, trapping him where he was. Not that Gilbert wanted to get away and he was pleased when Arthur dug his heels into the small of his back and pulled him further in. It wasn’t much longer till Gilbert was fully within Arthur, the god’s own cock twitching with pleasure. Gilbert took a moment, revelling in the feeling of being encased so completely in something so tight. He was panting, trying to calm himself before he reached his climax far too soon. Apparently, though, gods were not terribly patient.

“Come _on_!” Arthur snapped. “Get on with it.”

“H-Huh?” Gilbert breathed.

“ _Move_! I am not some delicate flower that you need to cradle. Let loose - it will not be like this with humans, so use your time wisely.”

Gilbert almost obeyed him. But, just before he let himself thrust as he so desperately wanted to, frantic and chasing his own pleasure, he remembered what this was for. “I can’t,” he told Arthur. “That wouldn’t be the worship you deserve.” He smiled down at Arthur and, before he could think better of it, stroked a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, delighting in the sight of them, bright and fixed on him, only _him_. They widened as he watched, apparently surprised at his audacity or his declaration.

“I… Just…” Arthur seemed to realise that he was unable to voice his thoughts and scowled, digging his heels almost painfully into Gilbert’s back. “I want you to _move_.”

“Mm, okay,” said Gilbert, realising that he couldn’t really deny Arthur anything. Slowly, unused to the tight grip Arthur’s body had on his cock, Gilbert pulled out till only the tip was inside his god. Then he slid back in with a long, slow thrust. Arthur groaned at how deep he went in, arching up off the bed. Gilbert bit his lip at the sight, Arthur becoming pliant as he continued at the same pace.

Once he’d gotten into a rhythm, Gilbert leaned down, kissing at Arthur’s skin. He suckled at Arthur’s nipples, drawing strangled cries from the god. His lips travelled everywhere, lapping up the sweat, the taste of a fresh, clear spring on his tongue. Unbidden, his hips began to pick up the pace. Arthur gasped at that, his back arching even more. Another cry left him and Gilbert couldn’t stop himself from capturing it in a sloppy kiss.

They couldn’t break away from each other after that, their lips finding each other’s constantly. Gilbert put his arms around Arthur’s waist, pulling him towards his body so that they were pressed together. His thrusts grew a little shallower but they changed to an angle that had Arthur shouting into their kiss, his nails scraping against Gilbert’s back. Hoping they’d scar, leave his god’s, his _lover’s_ , marks on him, Gilbert made sure to thrust to that spot, savouring the sounds that Arthur made with every one.

Soon, it all became too much. The kisses were barely that, more panting into each other’s mouths. Every noise drove up his arousal: the slapping of hips; the squelching of his cock driving in and out of Arthur; the soft noises of the shifting sheets. His cock throbbed from the heat around it and coursing through him. A pressure was building, a need, a desire, to keep going, to move faster. More, he needed more - more of his god, more of this, more of this feeling that he was where he was meant to be.

“Arthur,” Gilbert gasped as he realised that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I-” And, with that, he came.

It was an overwhelming, intense sensation that he had never felt before. A sense of release followed by a pleasure so momentous that he fought to keep from closing his eyes and collapsing on top of the god. Arthur, meanwhile, cried out and Gilbert barely registered that the god had been brought to his release as well, his dick spurting continuously for a minute before it finally softened. Once he had, Gilbert realised that his arms and legs were trembling and he carefully pulled himself out before collapsing to the side, an arm hooked around Arthur’s waist. He wanted to pull him in and bask on this new experience, this new love that he had for his precious god, but he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed.

They lay in silence, their heavy breathing slowly calming. Gilbert could only stare at Arthur’s profile, the god’s eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He wanted to speak, to declare his love for him, to pledge himself to his cause. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence, some part of him fearful that Arthur would leave now.

When nothing happened and Gilbert could feel himself growing tired, Arthur turned his head towards him, those beautiful eyes fixed on his face. Gilbert smiled at him then reached up to brush his hair behind his ear. Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily but he was soon staring once again. Neither of them spoke; Gilbert drank in the sight, thankful that he’d chosen Spring to worship.

“That,” said Arthur, finally, “is how you worship me.”

“Yes,” Gilbert agreed.

“But with other humans,” Arthur added, pushing himself up till he was hovering over Gilbert. There was a glowing light and Arthur was soon spotless and clothed again, crown once more nestled in its rightful place. “And when you come, you can send your prayers to me. Since you forgot that tonight, I will make sure your crops grow well.”

“You…” Gilbert whispered, his lips barely moving. “You sound as if you are leaving.”

Arthur took a deep breath, as if to fortify himself. “You have proved that you can worship me in person. Now you must create better followers for me. If I stay… Well.” Arthur smirked. “I expect I’d be a distraction for you.”

Panicked, Gilbert grabbed Arthur’s arm. “No. Wait, please. I-I don’t want you to go. I want to see you again.”

“Perhaps you will,” Arthur told him, twisting his arm away from Gilbert’s lax grip. “If you manage to teach enough people about this, then I shall visit next Spring.”

“A year?!”

“You will be praying to me every day,” said Arthur, all confidence. “It will be as if we’ve never been apart.” And he brushed his fingers against Gilbert’s temple. “Sleep, now. You need rest. And I shall leave you with a gift; you will be able to have sex with both men and women, even though I did not show you how tonight.” True to his words, Gilbert suddenly knew how to finger people open, prepare them for his cock, as if he had been doing it all his life. His dick twitched in interest and he had to bite his lip, eyes wide in surprise.

“I still wish you would not leave me,” Gilbert said, sighing in contentment as Arthur’s fingers trailed down the side of his face.

“Yes. I know.” Arthur pressed a kiss to Gilbert’s forehead and pulled away.

“Wait…” Gilbert said again. His limbs felt heavy, exhaustion as though from a busy festival day setting in. Blinking rapidly, he tried to keep his eyes open as he followed the god’s movements through the room. But Arthur only turned his head to look at him as he opened the door and Gilbert fell asleep to the image of his green, green eyes, contentment making him smile despite his loss.

* * *

In the Kamahan, the realm of the gods, Arthur entered through the gate and strode purposefully along. He ignored Alfred, the god of Summer, when the oblivious god tried to intercept him and successfully side-stepped him. The gods of Autumn and Winter, Matthew and Ivan, were quick to stop Alfred following. Seeing this, the other gods and goddesses merely parted for him, wondering where he was headed. Only one god seemed to be missing - Arthur knew where he would be.

Sure enough, he found Francis, the god of Love, in his hall of loveseats (as he called them), being waited on by his love nymphs. Arthur still didn’t see the point of them: they worshipped Francis as if they were humans, yet Francis could draw no power from them. Every day, new ones appeared to declare their love for him and he told them they were loved in return. When the mood took them, they had orgies, but it wasn’t as often as some humans seemed to think.

As soon as Arthur stepped in, the god looked up, raising an eyebrow. Arthur swept his gaze over the nymphs and raised his own. Rolling his eyes, Francis pushed himself up from where he lounged and, with a few whispered words and promises, the nymphs stood and melted into the background. The Spring god waited for their presences to be completely gone before he moved closer, standing before the blond god.

“Well, this is a surprise,” said Francis. “I was sure you would never return. That would have put all the other gods in a panic.”

“Yes, yes,” said Arthur, dismissively. “I did not come here to have you - or anyone else, for that matter - comment on how long I have been gone.”

“Mm. It has certainly been long enough for you to lose your manners.”

Sighing, Arthur stepped closer still and bent over Francis, cupping his face with one hand. With no hesitation, he kissed Francis, pressing his tongue into his fellow god’s mouth. Francis hummed with pleasure as their tongues twined. He didn’t let it go on for long, though, pulling away just before he was snagged with the desire to stay there for the rest of the day. That had happened before and he’d almost neglected his duties.

“There? Happy now?” Arthur demanded.

“Hm. It was rather lacklustre, but it will do, for now.” Francis held out a glass of wine which Arthur declined. “What has brought you to my humble abode?”

“You know well why I am here,” Arthur answered, eyes narrowed.

Francis sighed. “Yes, I do. The cult. You have started one.” He raised an eyebrow. “I still do not see why you have come here - unless you wish to gloat.”

Arthur snorted, sinking onto another couch. “To the one who told me how? No. I…” He trailed off, not sure why he was feeling so out of sorts. “I found someone suitable. And I believe he will be able to create this cult.”

“I know.”

“Did you watch me?” Arthur demanded, lip curling.

“Mm.” Francis fixed Arthur with a stern gaze. “That man loved you before you showed up - and now he loves you even more.”

Unable to look at Francis’s disapproval, Arthur glanced away. He admired a red rose on one of the bushed which lined the edge of the hall instead. “It is not… the love you usually bestow on humans.”

“It is,” said Francis, his words making Arthur look back at him in shock. “That was why it took so long. His love for you changed and he tried to protect himself, though he yearned to do what you wanted. And now you have cast him aside.”

“I have not!” Arthur protested. “I will watch over him.”

Again, Francis sighed. “I do not foresee this ending well for him. You should wipe his memory of you.”

“ _You_ created a cult!” Arthur snapped. “They still operate!”

“I know I encouraged you, my lovely, but this is not the same situation. It was long ago and I merely whispered into some of the priests and priestesses ears.” Francis spun the wine glass in his hand and watched the liquid inside swirl. “Their devotion gave me immense power and I grew quickly. But then, Love is a year long phenomenon.”

“Why did you not _tell_ me that?” Arthur demanded, sure his face was pale. Had he made a mistake, one with far-reaching consequences? Would-? He cut off that train of thought before it had even started.

“Well, I thought it was obvious.”

Arthur gave a strangled cry as he leapt to his feet. “You have appeared to humans numerous times!” he exclaimed. “Why would I not think that was how you had created the cult?!”

“I do apologise. No matter. This will not end well for the human.” Francis paused, eyeing Arthur. “It will not end well for Gilbert.”

“How do you-? Why were you watching us?!”

“A strange phenomenon was occurring,” said Francis pointedly, his blue eyes catching Arthur’s gaze and holding it. In them, Arthur could see that Francis knew, just as he did, deep down, why he felt so strange.

He quickly turned his back on Francis, his heart beating fast. “I… I have work to do,” he said, hurrying to the door.

“Arthur,” Francis said, making him falter. “You must admit it. If you do not-”

“You are not my boss,” Arthur interjected, not bothering to turn around. “Leave me be.” And he stalked from the hall, hoping Francis couldn’t see the way he pressed a hand to his aching heart.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're still wondering, Francis likes to be greeted with a loving/passionate kiss. If you don't he gets annoyed, as per the spurned lover anger he's fed by those who pray to him for their beloveds to return to them out of the arms of the people they actually love, etc. There's no real love between them, except for the love the gods and goddesses all share for each other.
> 
> Also, as I was working on this, I came up with what happens to Gilbert afterwards - but I might write it at a later date, so I won't say anything. Let's just say, things do not go well for him and Arthur is an idiot about the entire thing.
> 
> Oh, and the reason Arthur decided to make a cult was that, during a time when he didn't have much to do and people didn't worship him much, he said that he was bored to Francis who told him that creating a cult was a lot of fun.


End file.
